The Haze of Malaise

The night was more than just dark. The light of the moon cast down its glow and rather than a neutral, pale light some evenings it seemed to tint the world in a violet or, like tonight, greenish caste. Álarr stalked through the plateau. Every so often he'd pause, using one of his paws to sweep the snow off of a buried object. He was collecting a few odds and ends for use in his medicinal arts and fields full of human relics were as good a place to search as any. He figured he might as well hunt for materials since there wasn't much point to hunting for herbs in the middle of winter. He wanted to keep himself moving. These dark winter days it was tempting to just curl up in his den and never leave.